


heart on fire

by Lire_Casander



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Drunk characters, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 21:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19070587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lire_Casander/pseuds/Lire_Casander
Summary: although it's already night and the sun keeps burning, we're blinded by the past between me and you





	heart on fire

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an anonymous prompt over at tumblr: _Malex: fake dating + bed sharing_. I was aiming for a short, cute, fluffy fic. This happened instead.
> 
> I own nothing except my mistakes. Title and summary taken from _En Llamas_ by Dani Fernández, which I've tried to translate as true to the original as possible. 
> 
> Big shout out to [Shenanigans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shenanigans) for putting up with me when I ramble about my fics. This wouldn't have been done without the endless support and help and hand-holding given by the amazing [estel_willow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/estel_willow). You are truly a godsend, Hannah. I hope you are aware of it.

In the middle of the room, a king-sized bed glares at them. Alex feels a blush creeping up his neck, while, by his side, Michael clenches his newly healed hand and unclenches it slowly.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Michael says evenly, as though the motions of his fingers curling and uncurling have somehow soothed him. 

“No,” Alex tries to reason with him. “This is all on me, it’s fair that you take the bed.”

“You can’t sleep on the floor,” Michael states, gesturing towards Alex’s prosthetic. “I’ll be fine, wouldn’t be the first time. It’s only for a couple of nights.”

Alex can’t make himself look up as he nods curtly, fully aware that his physical condition is going to put Michael through two whole nights of uncomfortable sleep because he hadn’t been able to reject Parker’s invitation. He’s not going to share a bed with Guerin when they are slowly beginning to build a friendship out of the shards of their ultimate war – he’s not willing to risk even one night, he doesn’t really trust himself. 

“I’m sorry,” he mutters.

“I knew what I was signing up for, Alex,” Michael replies, nonchalance completely fake to Alex’s ears. “Tomorrow’s the ceremony; we can even leave after the party if you’re not too tired.”

“We’re like, two states over, Guerin,” Alex reasons, “there’s no way we could drive back to Roswell after you get shitfaced at my friend’s wedding reception.”

Michael shakes his head, one hand rubbing the back of his neck; the movement catches Alex’s eye and before he knows it he’s fully staring at Michael. He has to use all of his willpower to stop himself from reaching out and running his fingers through the rebel curls that threaten to get into Michael’s eyes. “It’s late, and I’m tired. Let’s just go to sleep and we’ll see tomorrow.”

When he gets a nod in response, Alex moves towards the door leading to the small bathroom. He grabs his toiletry bag and locks the door as he enters the space, back against the surface as he attempts to steady his breath. He knew it would be difficult, to spend a night or two with Michael in the same secluded space, but he’d expected the room to at least have twin beds. It would have made everything easier, but of course his life won’t be _easier_ anymore when it comes to Michael Guerin. Shaky hands zip the bag open and he takes out a toothbrush, in a feeble attempt at normalcy. 

He knows he’s not going to survive this weekend, not if he keeps having these thoughts about Michael, even if he was the one who’d asked Michael to come to the wedding in the first place. 

Alex knows it was a fucked-up move; he’d already told Parker that he was seeing someone when everything in his life imploded, but he’d forgotten to inform his fellow Airman of the tiny, albeit vital, detail of that relationship going down the drain as well. The truth is, Alex had only realized his mistake when the invitation arrived, shiny letters accusing him, Parker’s bright handwriting urging him to _bring your by, Manes, it’s already time for us to meet him and give him our special treatment_.

Things had spiraled quickly from there; he hadn’t been able to convince Kyle to come with him, but the Michael had been there, and somehow, _somehow_ , he agreed to attend the wedding reception with him. Alex will blame it forever on the booze – Alex had been drinking his way through the Wild Pony’s stash of whiskey, trying to figure out what to do with his life, and Michael had been _right there_ , sitting on the stool next to Alex’s, listening to his whining. Maria, in her endless wisdom, had gently nudged Alex in the direction of asking a cowboy about attending a military wedding in Oklahoma.

He spits in the sink and grips the porcelain for a few moments before looking up at his reflection in the mirror. “Time to man up, Manes,” he mutters to himself. Crutch secured in his grasp, he opens the door again and motions for Michael to get inside as he moves forward. As Michael strolls towards the bathroom door, his hand swiftly brushes Alex’s, sending a shiver up his spine, nerves alight with a fire that threatens to consume the whole world in one engulfing flame. 

Alex takes a few tentative steps towards the bed, trembling. Michael’s touch is lingering in every fiber of his body, even if it only was a fleeting brush of fingers on sticky skin. He rounds the bed and sinks onto the right side of the mattress. He feels the concrete ground with his bare foot, and it bites back with coldness and hardness. There is no way he’s letting Michael sleep on the floor, but he isn’t sure he’ll survive a whole night of having Michael Guerin by his side without being allowed to touch him – to hear his heartbeat lulling him to numbness and peace.

He slips under the covers and bites his lower lip, trying to make a decision. In the end, his heart wins over his mind, and the war stirring inside him is over before it begins. He pulls down the covers on the left side and waits for Michael to get out of the bathroom.

Once he does, Alex is looking up at him, eyes wide and questioning meeting a golden gaze that’s switching between the sheets, the floor and the door, never landing on Alex’s face. He’s beginning to regret even _thinking_ about offering in the first place.

“Are you sure?” Michael asks. His left hand is idle by his side, as though forgotten, out of the habit of moving following ten years of being crippled and mangled.

“Just get in before I change my mind,” Alex says, his voice thin and small. He doesn’t even pat the opposite side of the bed; he’s so scared Michael might reject him and decide to sleep on the floor anyway.

Michael blinks once, twice, and Alex feels his heart skipping a beat while Michael seems to think through his options. Finally, _finally_ , he walks to the bed with an unsure step, sitting on the mattress with his back to Alex. His body shakes as he lets out a loud sigh, and he lies down. So far they aren’t touching, but they’re close enough that Alex can feel heat coming off in waves, hitting him and filling him up with the fuzzy warm feeling he always has whenever Michael is around.

He feels he _belongs_.

For the first time in what seems like eons, Alex falls into a dreamless sleep. When he wakes up, after a full night’s rest with no nightmares to terrorize him, he is straddled by Michael’s arm around his waist, a curly head on top of his chest, moving slowly as he breathes in and out evenly. Alex can’t help the bubbling sensation of something similar to happiness bursting inside of him.

The peaceful moment is broken when Michael wakes up, disoriented and drowsy, only to realize where he’s fallen asleep. He jerks back with a yelp, stuttering apologies and withdrawing his hands, retreating to his side of the bed all the while putting his defences back up, leaving gaping holes in Alex’s soul wherever Michael had been touching him.

They don’t talk about it – they never do, after all – and go about their morning by getting ready for the wedding, taking turns in the bathroom to shave and dress up. Michael has trouble with his tie, and Alex is too scared to offer his help because he doesn’t know if he would be welcome. In the end, Michael gives up on the tie and goes for a more casual look, something Alex approves of.

The ceremony comes and goes smoothly, the priest talking slowly about love and forever and star-crossed fates entangling together in an endless knot. The weight of Michael's hand on his, for as much as it is for the sake of pretending, is grounding Alex, tethering him, bounding him to a world that he's sure doesn’t exist anymore – if it ever existed in the first place. It feels just about right to twist his fingers until they're softly entwined with Michael's, and when his movement isn’t met with a frown or a downright rejection, Alex allows himself to relax, sagging against Michael's frame like it’s his home. 

Maybe he is. Alex _knows_ Michael is his family, his home. 

He also knows how messed up whatever they have is. 

They don’t share a word as the ceremony finishes and the guests are ushered into the tent where the reception is taking place. Alex gets a glimpse of Parker before he and his wife are engulfed by the crowd congratulating them, asking them to pose for photos and pushing them around to greet them and gush over the the bride’s gown. He decides he’ll go talk to Parker a little bit later, and tugs on Michael’s hand to pul him towards the bar when realization sinks in: he hasn’t let go of Michael since linking their fingers together, and Michael hasn’t withdrawn. They have been holding hands, inadvertently, for a while now.

“I’ll go get some drinks,” he mutters, recovering his hand and stepping to the bar before Michael can say anything. His fingertips tingle with the feeling of loss, suddenly cold without the furnace of Michael’s skin. Alex doesn’t even ask Michael about what he’d like to drink – he knows the other man’s poison of choice – and he seizes the moment to think about what’s going on between them. He can’t pinpoint the precise moment when it all shifted, but it doesn’t feel as fragile as it did when they went to bed _together_ the night before.

“Alexander Manes!” he hears from behind him. Alex is spun around by strong hands on his shoulders, and when he turns he’s faced with Clements, another member of his squad. For a split second they stare at each other in silence before Alex is pulled into a tight hug. “Didn’t know you’d be able to make it!”

“Joseph Clements!” he greets back, tightening the hug. “Of course I was gonna make it. Wouldn’t miss it!”

“Meaning he wouldn’t miss the chance to know if he won his bet,” Parker pipes in from behind Clements, drawl slurring a bit already, and Alex laughs heartily.

“Well, took you long enough to pop the question, Parker,” Clements says, detangling himself from Alex’s grasp, but leaving a lingering hand on the small of his back. “We were all wondering if you weren’t batting for Manes’ team here.”

Alex chuckles – it’s always been pretty obvious who actually _was_ on his team, after DADT was repealed – and bumps a fist into Parker’s shoulder. “Congrats, man. I’m so happy for you.”

“Thanks!” Parker’s smile is wide and inviting, his hand closing around Alex’s wrist for balance as he tries – and fails – not to stumble upon his own feet. He’s got too much to drink already; Alex feels it in the way swoons a little too much to the music, in the wobbly way his body leans forward, in the slight hiccup that follows every few words. And in the way Parker seems to cling to his wrist as though it is a lifeline. Clements hasn’t really let go of him, either, and the three of them are standing in a tight circle, linked by their touch of skin on skin, just like it was back in the desert – before everything exploded and they were a mess of limbs and blood and screams. “I guess it’s about time you two follow in my steps,” he declares. “Where’s your plus-one, Clements? I know Manes came with his boyfriend, and I have yet to meet both of your guys!”

“Trashed already, Parker?” Clements asks jokingly. “To the point of forgetting I came to your wedding _stag_? Not planning on leaving that way, though, if only you’d-”

“Not drunk,” Parker interrupts, voice conspiratorially low although loud enough for all the guests to hear him. “Just a bit tipsy. Lemme introduce you to some people,” he keeps on, tugging at Alex’s wrist. He shakes his head, laughing a bit at the oddness in the situation – Parker has always been the kind of drunk that made Alex want to protect him no matter what – and he stills his friend on the spot, forcing Parker to focus on him as he opens his mouth to speak. 

“In fact, Parker, there was something I wanted to-” Alex begins, only to be cut off by a blur of movement at his left, a hot press of a hand against his back, swatting away Clements’ fingers with a growl. “ _Guerin_!” he yelps, and the world stills for a second. He tries to speak, jaw working and mouthing opening, but no sound comes out of his lips. He shakes his head. “Clements, Parker, this is Michael Guerin,” he finally finds his words and introduces Michael. His hand slips from where it has squeezing Parker’s shoulder.

“About time you introduced me to your squad, _sweetie_ ,” Michael says, saccharine in his voice and daggers in his eyes. 

“The infamous Guerin,” Clements quips. “Pleasure finally meeting you.”

Michael is glaring up at him until Clements retreats a bit and he’s standing a foot away from Alex. Michael frowns, as if processing the whole situation, and when he speaks up there’s ice laced in his words. “Alex didn’t say you guys were _that_ close.”

“We were together in the desert for how long? Seven years?” Parker explains. Alex can feel Michael vibrating by his side, a hair’s breadth away from giving into his powers. “Manes has saved our asses more than once with that big brain of his.”

“You saved mine too,” Alex reminds him. He doesn’t want to remember, but he certainly owes his life to the men standing close to him in the reception tent. 

“I’m glad you did,” Michael says, tone shifting to something much more genuine. “Congrats on your wedding,” he adds, as an afterthought.

Parker nods, a sly smile breaking in his face as Alex feels Michael’s hand creeping up his back to rest on his shoulder. He can’t help the slight shiver that runs through him. “I have to go talk to the rest of Marge’s family, or else I risk a really uneventful wedding night.”

“You’re not gonna get it anyway,” Clements jokes, pushing at him. Parker takes advantage of the movement and grabs Clements by his forearm. 

“You’re coming with me, Clements.”

“What? I was having fun with Manes right-”

“Remember how you owe me from that last time in Baghdad?” Parker wiggles his brows and Alex has to stifle a laugh. “You coming with me, since you’re single and on the search, I do have someone I want you to meet!”

“See you around, Manes!” Clements manages to shout out while Parker drags him away.

“Or better not see you around in a while!” Parker commands, laughing his way through the space and leaving the two of them alone.

Alex doesn’t want to move, for fear Michael might break contact and, right now, the only source of heat Alex has is the brand Michael’s fingers are leaving on his skin through the layers of fabric covering him. Instead, he swallows and chooses to whisper, “What was that, Guerin?”

Michael refuses to reply. Alex fidgets in his spot, facing the crowd that is now swaying to the rhythm of some pop song the band Parker has hired. He waits, foot impatiently tapping the ground following the music.

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, but you do,” Alex spins around to search in that face, not wanting to be fooled by the bashful tone. “You do, and I want to know what happened just now. Why were you acting like a jealous boyfriend?”

“Aren’t I supposed to be exactly _that_?” Michael withdraws his hand. Alex feels unbalanced, the world upside down all of a sudden. “I mean, boyfriends. That’s what you told me. I thought you wanted me to be just that. Your fake boyfriend. Sorry if I overreacted.”

“I never thought I’d have to pretend with them,” Alex muses, still reeling from the shift his universe has just taken as Michael steps further away. “You’re right, we’re supposed to be pretending to be a couple. _I_ wanted this to be like this.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Michael says. He’s not moving forward, but he’s not retreating anymore. The space feels crowded and as though they’re the only ones in the whole universe. “I know you said-I know you wanted us to be friends. I know I fucked up-with Maria. I know I don’t deserve a second chance, or whatever this might be. But I’d be lying if I said I don’t want this to be _real_.”

Alex freezes, taken aback by the sincerity he can _feel_ in those words. There’s a force tugging the strings of his heart like a melody ready to be played by deft hands. There’s a need pushing him towards the edge, and this time he’s sure he can jump. So he surges forward, hands stretched out, seeking the comfort of those curls he knows by heart. 

This time, Michael catches him and suddenly he doesn’t know where he ends and where Michael begins. They’re tangled in a kiss that will linger in the back of his mind for as long as he’ll be able to remember, as if they are sharing much more than just a touch of lips and rushed breaths – as if their souls are becoming one. 

It’s the reunion all over again; it’s the first meeting after Iraq right in front of the Airstream. It’s the moment Alex realized he couldn’t go on without Michael, when he came to the trailer to notify the eviction. It’s the nervousness of a first kiss and the giddiness of a love that’s no longer unrequited. It’s the fear of losing breaking through him and the liberation of knowing there is enough light in that gaze to get them through the night. It’s a promise and a curse.

It’s _cosmic_.


End file.
